


Another Reality (Frerard)

by Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fear, Ferard, Frerard, Insanity, Love, M/M, MCR, Pikey, Rikey, Romance, Ryden, insane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas/pseuds/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a very fine line between creativity and insanity. A smart man would distance himself from the line, but a wise man would embrace it and name it 'Love.'</p>
<p>(Also posted on Wattpad)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in 2019, the year of the Killjoys. It takes place in Nevada and not New Jersey. Also, I have decided to use similar concepts to what MCR did with their music, however, I do not copy. Do not get offended if things are done differently than they were in the Sing video and the Na Na Na video (there are characters that are similar to BL/ind).

Mad Hatter: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"  
"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.  
"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "What's the answer?"  
"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.

~ Lewis Carol, Alice In Wonderland (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland #1)

~~~~~~~~~~

There's something liberating about blood. Perhaps it's something to do with the color, or maybe it's the pain that is associated with it, or maybe it's just the streak patterns it makes as it crawls across human skin. Whatever it was, Frank liked it. He liked to watch it, to taste it, to touch it, and to feel it. He liked to run a knife across random parts of his body and collect the vermilion fluid in his hands. He liked to stare at the scarlet liquid as it pooled in the random crevices in his palm. Sometimes he would lap it up with his tongue like a cat because he liked the metallic yet somewhat salty taste. It was simple really; Frank liked blood.

There were many people--Frank knew--who found him disturbing. The nurses, for example, would direct nervous glances towards him whenever they brought him his meals. Once in a while, whispers would echo through the otherwise silent room about how creepy he was--which was saying something coming from nurses employed at a mental institute. The doctors and psychologists always said the same things, "You're disgusting, Frank," or "We can't fix stupidity." They had given up trying to help him long ago, and now all they did was feed him and provide him with sedatives so he could sleep. No one was concerned if he lived or died, and quite honestly, neither was Frank. It wasn't necessarily that he had given up on life, it was simply that life had given up on him. His brain didn't work properly and he couldn't comprehend the negativities of pain. He wasn't completely sadistic, he just couldn't distinguish right from wrong. His twisted thoughts were left unmonitored, causing all hope of recovery to dissipate as he constantly fell deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of insanity. All of his ideas were backwards, and there was no way to straighten them. Frank was a hopeless cause.

The teenager stared as he ran the blade over his pale skin, watching the blood trickle down his arm. He had opted to slice his shoulder this time, tearing the fabric of his skin harshly and laughing at the angry gash that glared back at his face. He ran his tongue against the smooth roof of his mouth and smiled a psychopathic grin. The pain of the cut soothed him and he chuckled, amused. Not many things gave him so much joy as the blade did, even if it wasn't for long. It wasn't that he was sad or depressed, he was just insane.

Frank didn't do this to self-harm. In fact, he really didn't understand what "harm" was. He was a bit of a sadomasochist and enjoyed his own agony. His collection of bruises, cuts, and broken bones had grown considerably over the years, but all of which were self-inflicted. No one knew why Frank did it. All anyone knew was that he was crazy and he didn't care who or what got hurt. If he liked it, he would do it. And if he didn't like it, he would do it many times. As far as he was concerned, pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain.

"Frank Iero. Frank Anthony Iero, please report to Guidance," a woman's voice called over the speakers. There were speakers in every room of the EINSTEIN Home so that the Brains could contact the Patients. Frank had tried every way known to man to remove that damn thing from the wall, but it still remained as loud and vivid as ever.

He huffed a breath, figuring that he should go. He hadn't been called there in a very long time and he was bored so why not? In one swift movement, he dropped the blade and pulled his sleeve down, standing up from where he was perched on his bedpost. It had always been his favorite place to sit; a place where he could feel like he was taller and freer, like he was not in this damned place of misery. Exiting his room, he followed the path to Guidance that he knew by heart.

What the Brains had conveniently named "Guidance" was, of course, not actual guidance. It was rather a room where they would reprimand bad Patients--often with rulers or other blunt objects--and transfer good Patients to a better location. Frank always knew he would never be transferred for good behavior to a nicer institute. The only place he had a chance to be transferred to was Guantanamo Bay. Why he would be out there, he wasn't entirely sure.

Frank carefully made a note of every light fixture, hole in the wall, and scribbled graffiti that he passed, taking time to remember each one. He wasn't allowed out of his cell very often, so he always tried to memorize the outside world when he got the chance. Obviously, his ideas of "the outside world" were limited, but he took what he could get.

As he reached the door which read GUIDANCE on it in big print, he noticed something was different. There was someone new, Frank noted, because he heard a newcomer's voice. He couldn't decide if it was a Brain or a Freshie, but either way he didn't like it. A Freshie meant someone else was dumped at this god forsaken place--not that he really minded, and new Brains meant someone else to torture him. However, the torture wasn't the part that he dreaded. It wasn't the pain he minded, it was the looks on the Brains' faces. Their eyes held this condescending glimmer in them that made Frank hate them even more. He hated it. He hated it so much that he smiled at them, and chuckled at their confused faces. He hated it so much that when the performed painful procedures on him without sedating him, he would giggle hysterically as if he were being tickled. He hated it so much that he loved it.

Yes, Frank thought, me hopes it be a staff replacement. I could use another Brain to hate me.

He knocked on the door to Guidance and was greeted by Doctor Swartz who smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Frank, and how are you today?"

Frank smirked evilly back at him, "I be fantastic, Stephan." The doctor's name wasn't Stephan, Frank knew, but his father's was. Frank had been in this nuthouse long enough to know that Doctor Philip Swartz hated his father with a burning passion, so Frank had just delivered the highest of insults. Philip's smile faltered and he sent Frank a glare.

"Come in, you crazy shit," Philip muttered, pulling Frank into the falsely named Guidance office.

It's good to be back, Frank thought. "Hey, Stephan, you used to be mucho funner when you'd stick me up with needles. Perhaps you'd like to be trying it again?" Frank enthused. Stephan didn't crack a smile. He only winced at the clear insanity Frank displayed.

"Frank, the only reason we brought your crazy ass here is because we have a new Patient who will be rooming with you. I didn't want to add another problem to the nurses assigned to your room, but we like to keep the craziest with the craziest so you have a roommate," Stephan informed Frank swiftly. They didn't normally give mental patients roommates, as they could kill each other, influence each other with crazy ideas, or help each other escape, so solitary confinement was the usual routine. However, there was nothing "usual" about Frank so he figured it was probably fitting.

Doctor Swartz didn't even bullshit around or try to butter up the news, he just plain said it. The Patient smirked.

"Oh, goodie, fresh meat. I suppose he's just as out of his mind as I be. Does he be?"

Doctor Swartz ignored the question and went on to tell him who his roommate was. It was clear to Frank that Stephan was in a hurry to get Frank out of his office. "His name is Gerard and he is a true psycho. He might even be worse than you, which is indeed saying something. In fact, you can meet him now and take him back to your room. It'll save that poor nurse a trip to Nutville." Stephan grabbed a set of keys from his desk and walked into a room that was connected to Guidance. The sound of clanking and clicking came from that room only a moment later. Following, Stephan returned leading a black haired boy with chains on the boy's wrist.

Oh, we be having a true nutcase who requires actual restraint.

"I am highestly touched that you bringeth forth to me a retard in bonds. You must be Gerard. I be Frank the Fabulous," Frank bowed deeply, kissing Gerard's handcuffed hands. The taller boy yanked his arms away from Frank. Clearly, he was a kid with anger issues.

"And I'm Gerard Get The Fuck Away From Me," Gerard grumbled.

"Well, Gerard Get The Fuck Away From Me, you are rude," Frank smiled, enjoying the look on the distressed boy's face.

"It's such a shame that I don't care," Gerard sassed.

Stephan must've been irritated by the two of them since he unlocked Gerard's handcuffs and said, "Alright, that's enough introductions for you two wackjobs. Frank, take Gerard to his new home and, Gerard, for the love of God, try not to bite anyone."

"Understood, Stephan. As always, it had be a pleasure," Frank waved as he grabbed Gerard by his hair and pulled him out of Guidance. Stephan only grunted in response.

"Get the fuck off my hair, you fucking weirdo!" Gerard ordered, attempting to pry Frank's fingers from his greasy mop of hair.

"I rather be not. It is quitently fun to watch you squirm, even if you are be like 9 feet short. Did your parents feed you Miracle Grow?"

"I'm not tall, you're just short. And I don't have parents, you fucktard," Gerard responded. Frank only grinned sadistically, releasing Gerard's hair and accidentally kneeing him in the stomach.

"Why, did you killed them or something?"

The taller boy quickly whipped around to face Frank fully, grabbing his collar and shoving him roughly against the wall, "Don't you dare talk like that, you fucking piece of shit! I could end you if I wanted to!"

Frank only laughed, not even phased by his situation. As previously mentioned, he couldn't tell right from wrong. He was enjoying the pain he was in, and he loved seeing Gerard angry. It energized him. Gee slammed him into the wall again, the boom that it made echoing in the hallways. This caused Frank only to laugh harder, his psychopathic giggles growing louder and louder. The wasn't a chance that nurses couldn't hear what was going on, but they didn't care. They only treated the treatable. The EINSTEIN Home was only a keeping place for the ones who were far past the line of sanity. This was normal life for people like Frank. Fights like this broke out almost every day from what Frank could hear in his cell.

Eventually, realizing it was pointless to remain fighting, Gerard dropped Frank, letting him slump to the ground as he continued to chuckle. "Where the fuck is your room, midget?"

"Ah, my cell," Frank laughed, standing up, "tis yonder."

He led the way for Gerard to follow him, arriving at his cell in no time at all. They stepped inside the white room, and neither one of them was prepared for what they saw.


	2. Chapter 2

One person's craziness is another person's reality  
~ Tim Burton

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was one bed. One bed in the center of the room stood proudly and and stared mockingly at them. It was as if it was saying 'ha ha you have to share a room with this asshole.' The bed was slightly larger than Frank's old cot, which told him that they would not be adding one to the room. They probably didn't want to waste resources on nutcases, or they simply had a burning desire to force two psychopathic males to sleep together. Whatever the reason, they would be far to close for Gerard's high maintenance comfort. Frank had no problem with the arrangement, as he didn't understand what's so bad about sharing a bed, but Gerard was furious.

"They're going to make me share a room with this fucking retard! He's a faggot! He'll probably try to fucking molest me in my fucking sleep! Fucking pervert!" Gerard continued to rant, a never-ending flow of overused insults and repeated curse words spitting from his mouth. They were blunt daggers in Frank's opinion; delivered with the obvious intent to wound but instead just numbly falling upon indestructible armor. The shorter boy only watched him in silence, smiling occasionally when certain words amused him. He didn't know why, but the word 'faggot' made him laugh. There was something hilarious about it, the way it sounded like a fancy yet disgusting side dish that is considered a delicacy but most people just discard it. He giggled when he thought about a waiter in a newly pressed tuxedo offering to a well-dressed lady a nasty-looking muck sprinkled with oregano. "Mistress," he imagined the waiter saying in a British accent, "would you care for some more Fåggot?" Frank decided that he liked the term.

Perhaps I shall be using that wordie sometime, Frank thought.

"He can't even speak proper English dammit...and they are making me share a fucking bed with him! It was bad enough that we'd be roommates!" the black haired boy continued to scream at no one specially--no one that was visible to the other boy at least. He had referred to Frank in third person, so he clearly wasn't speaking to the boy. Gerard didn't know to whom he was addressing this well-spoken oration, but he didn't particularly care. He wanted to yell at someone, and right then the air seemed like a pretty good option.

"You know," Frank commented, "if you be talking to Jesus, you might be wanting to be a bit more respectfulish. He is not much kind to crazies like you, so if ya want a favor, you be having to beg nice for it. Ya get me?"

Gerard only rolled his eyes. Apparently, he wasn't much kind to crazies like Frank either. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, and I don't really care. Let's make a deal; I'll ignore you if you ignore me. You stay on your side of the bed when we sleep, and I'll stay on mine. As much as I've grown to hate you, I really am not in the mood to beat anyone up right this minute. Do we have a deal?"

Frank pursed his lips. To say yes would mean that he would have to actually uphold his end of the deal and not annoying the hell out of his roommate. That would be quite a loss for the kid, as he didn't get this golden opportunity very often. However, to say no would make him rude and he could possibly be complained about to Stephan. It wasn't that he really minded seeing his dearest and most appreciated friend, he just couldn't say that he would take the inevitable transfer that would come with it too enthusiastically. He smirked.

"Well, normally I be saying yes to such a deal, but I thinking you be an excellent victim," Frank grinned. Gerard violently shook his head, fervently stating no. He didn't know what Frank meant by 'victim' but he sure as hell didn't want to find out. The kids creeped him out and all he wanted was to just forget that he existed.

"No, I would be a terrible 'victim'. I don't want to be sent to an asylum for murdering my fourteen-year-old roommate; EINSTEIN is bad enough, so leave me the fuck alone."

"I be not fourteen. I be actually ten plus seven. But fine, Gerard Get The Fuck Away From Me, I be leaving you alone if you be wanting that. But if I want victim, you be first choice," Frank told him. Gerard rolled his eyes sassily, but he didn't argue, deciding that that was probably the best that he was ever going to get.

-

Frank gaily skipped to the bathroom of the cell, humming the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as he went. He was planning to finish his daily cuts properly since he was rudely interrupted by the intercom earlier. The blades he used were no longer on the mattress since they changed the bed, so Frank made an educated guess that they were placed in the bathroom. Although it was usually policy that Patients were not to possess sharp objects, the Brains didn't seem to care about the gone ones. If they found a blade, they would just throw it wherever without caring where it landed. Some of the softer Brains would sometimes even put them away, which seemed to be the case that time. Upon entering, he loudly closed the door and locked it, rummaging through the different drawers. He found a large array of toiletries and even a package of pads and a few tampons for some reason. He shrugged when he saw them.

You never know when a guy might grow a uterus, he thought. He paused when he remembered something important. Ba Ba Black Sheep, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the ABCs all have the same tune. He shook the thought away when it spooked him out a little too much.

After a few more moments of relaxed searching, Frank's eyes rested on something shiny. "I done it! I has finded the One Ring to rule them all!" Frank exclaimed as he grabbed the blade from the cabinet. He speculated that Gerard could probably hear him, but he couldn't give less of a shit.

Lifting the hem of his shirt, he resolved to slice the delicate skin of his hipbone. He already had a handful of scars scattered around his waist region, but it was the most painful area for him to cut so it had always been his favorite.

He loved to watch the blade sink into the taut flesh. It reminded him of taking scissors to paper, which he adored imagining. The idea that his body was the paper and the blade was a pair of scissor allowed him to think of himself as art; and that he was modifying himself to make the canvas that was his body to make it perfect. That scars that consequently remained prompted him to imagine them as paint strokes splashed randomly together to form a beautiful picture. The only thing better than destroying his body through pain was to destroy his body through pain for the sake of art.

He roughly placed the blade just below his abdomen; a place where the skin is soft and meaty but still easy to pierce. A pinprick of blood traced down his front as he pressed the corner of the blade to his flesh. Slowly dragging it horizontally across his skin, he closed his eyes and giggled at the pain. This was his favored activity to do when he was bored. When the cut was made, he glanced down to watch the blood trickle down his legs. It made him wish he had a cup to collect the blood so he could drink it. Drinking his own blood felt poetic to him in a strange way, like he could use the liquid that he needs to survive to die. He was collapsing his body on itself and recycling his blood, putting what belongs in his veins into his digestive tract. It felt oddly satisfying. Of course, he couldn't drink much of it because the laceration didn't provide enough of it. Thus, he made another cut.

Unconcerned about his bodily health, he repeated the action many times, until his head felt dizzy and his leg looked like a scene from an Edgar Allen Poe story. The thrill of it never died down, and he only stopped due to a knock at the door.

"Frank?" His roommate called, "Frank? Listen, retard, I know you're in there. I don't care what you're doing in there, but could you keep the moaning down? I know I'm hot, but I don't want to listen to you masturbate to me."

Frank laughed at his assumption. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he masturbated. Masturbation brought pleasure, and pleasure wasn't Frank's friend. Also, he didn't appreciate the beauty of other humans, so if Gerard was attractive--which he was certain he was--he wouldn't acknowledge it.

"Yes, you does. But doesn't matter. I can not be calling him now," Frank muttered.

Gerard didn't understand Frank's nonsense. Who the hell was he talking about? Who could he not be calling?

Gerard had serious anger issues and countless other problems, but his reassurance was that he would never be as crazy as Frank. His brain damage couldn't even compare to Frank's retardation, but he wasn't sure if that was something to be proud of.

Gee shrugged and walked away from the door that separated Frank from himself. It unnerved him that there was only a thin plank of wood between himself and the crazy kid who was currently doing things that Gerard attempted to convince himself that he didn't want to imagine. As much as hated Frank and wished that he didn't exist, he couldn't help but notice that the kid was attractive as fuck. Gerard really didn't want to admit it, but if Frank was more likable, less annoying, and sane, he would bang him in a heartbeat. However, that was a thought that Gerard knew he couldn't afford to think. Instead, he pictured some hot chick in a bikini to cleanse his mind. He decided that if the teenager was going to pleasure himself, what's to stop him from doing it as well? He settled onto the bed and began.

-

Frank smiled as he dabbed the blood off of his arm, the stinging sensation relaxing every taut muscle in his small body. As the last droplet if blood was collected in the paper towel, Frank carelessly tossed it away. He covered his wounds with his sleeve before exiting the bathroom.

As soon as he stepped out of the tiny room, he froze in place at the image before him. His roommate sprawled out on the bed, moaning like a prostitute, while pumping his hand on a part of him that would be blurred out on television. Gerard Get The Fuck Away From Me was masturbating.

-

It was not uncommon for people to think that Frank was gay. In fact, more often than not they just assumed he was and didn't even bother to ask. If, on some rare occasion, they saw him hanging out with another male, many people just thought that they were in a relationship. Some thought that that was weird while others didn't even blink an eye. Homophobia was normal in EINSTEIN but there were a few who just didn't care.

Frank's flamboyance was part of the reason why he was so unpopular in the home, coupled with the fact that he was a walking mental disorder. People speculated that he liked dick, and therefore they didn't like him. The truth was, however, that Frank really didn't have a sexuality. He liked whoever he liked and if that person happened to be a guy, so be it. He remembered having a crush on a boy named Quentin--who found out about it and beat him up--but he also once had a crush on a girl named Jamia. Both of those were a long time ago, before he stopped liking other humans. Now, he defined his sexuality as asexual because the alternative of admitting that he liked guys seemed far too scarring for him.

Gerard was one of the many people who thought that Frank was gay. He reminded the boy that he was a faggot every time he got the chance--which was often--and it almost got to the point where Frank just believed him. It was as if Gerard knew Frank's sexuality better than Frank did. The younger boy laughed at Gerard's attempts to insult him, but secretly, so secretly he barely even knew it himself, he despised those words. The word 'faggot' amused him, but the context Gerard always used it in scared him and it reminded him of the one he hated mentioning.

Of course, Gee never knew that the venomous words he spat at Frankie actually hurt him. He just thought that the retard was immune to feeling anything. The truth was that he silently wanted Frank to be human, and humans always showed irritation. It frustrated him when Frank only giggled at Gerard's terminology, not even batting an eyelid.

What Gerard didn't understand was that some people are like glass, shattering easily and loudly, letting everyone know that they are through. Other people are like paper, bendable and crushable, but not easily broken, and when they do finally tear, they do so silently so as not to disturb other people's lives.


	3. Chapter 3

It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane

~ Philip K. Dick, Valis (Valis Trilogy, #1)  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Gerard and Frank had been rooming together for a few weeks now. So far, Gerard was nearly ready to shoot himself in the forehead. He was naturally an abnormally violent person, but it had gotten to the point where he was literally losing his nonexistent sanity over the kid. He couldn't count the amount of times he caught Frank whispering nonsense to no one or moaning in the bathroom. The list of snarky comments kept growing as the minutes passed. He often woke to find that Frank had invaded Gerard's side of the bed. Frank would never consider consequences when he spoke, and the bullshit that came out of his mouth pissed off Gee to no end. He often found drips of blood on the floor and didn't even want to know where they came from. If Gerard wasn't already crazy, Frank would've driven him insane.

Frank knew he was the roommate from hell. He knew how much he irritated Gerard, like an itch that could never be satisfied. He was fully aware that he very presence in his very attractive cellmate's life made the older boy blow a gasket. However, Frank didn't care. He wasn't in EINSTEIN because he was generous and loving. He was never known as the model student in school, never crowned the most charming child, never made into a hero by his fellow Patients, and he certainly was never the top pick of best friends. Never was he even considered second best, or third for that matter. He was always identified as the weird kid with all the burn marks and paper cuts. He was known as the kid who would laugh if someone punched him, and would often pick fights with the bullies just because he wanted to get beaten. He was always the strangest--and most irritating--child, and he was put in EINSTEIN because of it. Being Gerard's least favorite person in the world was just another thing to add to his List of Reasons Why I Fail at Life. But Frank liked his list. He liked being the worst at everything. He liked being a failure.

There was something that bothered the smaller boy quite a bit. It was nothing major, certainly nothing he lost sleep over, but he was always so puzzled by it. Frank couldn't understand what Gerard's mental problem was. Sure, he had anger issues, but nothing that would legally label him as insane. He wasn't exactly stable, but there was nothing abnormally unstable about him. Frank was as nuts as they come, but Gerard's sanity only seemed to be slipping, teetering on the edge of the normal Patients and the gone Patients. There seemed to be absolutely no rhyme or reason as to why they would shove him in with Frank, who was one of the craziest in the Home. There was nothing about Gerard which really struck Frank as a gone Patient--he didn't eat his shoe laces, he didn't try to argue with walls, he didn't shove his face into a doorway and slam the door, nor did he believe that the dust that collected on horizontal surfaces due to lack of cleaning was pixie dust that would free them all from EINSTEIN. Gerard didn't seem all too crazy to Frank.

Gee didn't want to be one of the Patients that are so devoid of their own minds that the Brains didn't even try to fix them. He didn't want to be one of the ones that would be stared at with distaste by the very people who were supposed to be helping them. He didn't want to be spoken to a if he were a ticking time bomb ready to explode. He didn't want to be considered so insane that he was literally monitored and feared if ever he stepped foot outside of his cell--which was always kept under lock and key. Of course, no one wanted to be that, but slowly, Gerard began to feel the edges of his brain begin to sag as if they had completely stopped working. He began to notice areas of his brain that were supposed to be relied upon starting to collapse upon themselves, like a tower that was built just a bit too fragile to sustain the weight of the people who entered. No matter how hard he tried to start up his brain functions, they remained dormant. It frustrated him, but he began to pity Frank more for his insanity. It couldn't be easy for the shorter boy to live in a dangerous kill zone that was his own brain, especially since Frank didn't even know what danger was. Every day that Frank lived, he would risk killing himself without knowing that it was bad. It seemed that people found him so hazardous to others that they barely even thought about how threatening he was to himself. The saddest part was that no one would care if Frank died. There would be no funeral, no tears shed, no one to think of him after he had gone, and no one besides the nurses who were so 'burdened' with taking care of him to even notice if the kid did die. Frank had no one, and he didn't even care if he had no one. It was clear to the older boy that Frank really didn't know what it was like to be loved and cared for. Frank didn't care that he had no one because you can't miss something you've never had. Gerard felt bad for him.

However, Gerard's pity for Frank didn't make him like the boy any more. In fact, it caused him to be even more frustrated that he was having petty feelings such as mercy. He had never experienced that before, and because of it, he was going out of his way to find more things to hate about Frank.

For example, Gerard forced himself to hate Frank's appearance. His hair was shaved on the sides where his hair was white, and a black fringe swooped down low enough on his face to reach his eyes, but never quite covering them. It made him look like a reverse Oreo. His eyes were surrounded in a shade of pink, causing him to look sickly and dead. He still wasn't sure if that was makeup or natural, but he speculated it was natural considering the fact that they lived in EINSTEIN which was a place where makeup was typically not allowed, especially for guys. Gerard hated the fact that Frank's eyes were adorably puppy-like. They were so shiny and pretty, and Gerard hated them. Gerard convinced himself he loathed everything Frank was and did.

A childish giggle broke Gerard from his thoughts. He looked up and nearly had a heart attack at what he saw. Frank was running a razor blade down his tongue, licking the edge like a lollipop. Blood dripped from his mouth and onto the floor, but the teenager didn't seem to notice. He only laughed psychopathically, moaning slightly at the cold pain that sliced through his tongue.

Gerard immediately jumped into action, throwing himself at Frank and grabbing his arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is a razor blade, not an ice cream cone!" He screamed as he yanked the object from Frank's grip. "Do you know what this could do to you? This could fucking kill you if you choked on your own blood!" It probably wasn't true, but Gerard was furious. He couldn't stand to see someone doing something so awful to themselves. No matter how much he hated other life forms and how much he loved to hurt them, he wouldn't let them hurt themselves. Self-inflicted pain was much worse than Gerard hurting someone due to his mental disability. Or at least Gerard convinced himself of that.

Frank chuckled at Gerard's words, "Goeth away, Gerard Get The Fuck Away From Me! Me does not need you to be telling me what I can't and can does. I am a in-de-pen-dent black woman who does no need no fucking monitor." Gerard sighed at Frank's inability to speak English, which was another thing that got on his nerves. Nothing was worse than rooming with someone who spoke like a Shakespearean four-year-old.

"Listen, you little shithead, I refuse to be the one fucking responsible for your death when the nurses come in to feed us and find you dead from self-inflicted wounds. Get your shit together. The sooner we improve, if improvement is even possible, the sooner that bastard Dr. Swartz will let us get new roommates. God knows that I will take fucking anyone over you."

Frank smiled, "How to Swear Unnecessarily in Almost Every Sentence, a novel writed by the great Gerard Way-Get-The-Fuck-Away-From-Me. Seriousesly, doth thou even think about what you is gonna say or doth thou just think about what the next cuss be gonna be?" Gerard ignored the other boy, huffing a breath in annoyance. Maybe I curse a lot, but at least I can speak English, he thought.

Gerard was not alone in hating his roommate. Frank couldn't stand being in Gee's presence. However, unlike Gerard, when Frank hated people, he did everything he could to spend time with them. He hated them so much that he loved them. Frank would purposely cuddle with Gerard when the taller boy was asleep, but he wouldn't mention it when they woke up. In fact, both boys chose to leave the topic of sharing a bed unmentioned. Frank really didn't mind it, but he didn't necessarily enjoy talking about it.

"Hey, fucktard, do you wear fucking makeup around your eyes like a chick? Or do you naturally look like you've never slept a night in your whole fucking life?" A nurse said, walking in. Ah, it was the one and only Nurse Bert. He had a bit of a potty-mouth and wasn't afraid to tell Frank how much he hated him. "And how 'bout that faggot Gerard? Does he help you put on the eyeliner?" Frank was silent. He always hated Bert, but not in the way he hated Gerard. He hated Gerard but he loved spending time with him. He just plain hated Bert. "Hey, freak, cat still got your tongue?"

"Hey, jerk-off, Mom still got your balls?" Gerard shot back at Bert. Gerard didn't know why he said this to the nurse, but he hated that man with a burning passion. Even if he had to stand up for Frank in order to insult the little bitch, he would jump at the opportunity.

Bert narrowed his eyes at Gerard, "You've always gotten on my tits. I could report you to Anger Management and make you go to therapy for it," he threatened.

Gerard didn't appear to be phased at all by this, "Do whatever the fuck you want. Just get the hell out of here, I'm sure your boyfriend's missing you."

"Hey, I ain't a faggot!" Bert yelled, "in fact, I fuck quite a lot of bitches. You're just jealous."

"Oh really? So do you fuck them with the micro-penis in your pants or the massive one on your forehead?"

Bert didn't reply. He just threw Frank and Gerard's daily meal on the table, spat in their water glasses, and stormed out of the room.

"Well, that went well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was such a short chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter.

In a mad world, only the mad are sane  
~ Akira Kurosawa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frank awoke in the morning to find a dull ache throbbing at the back of his head. It felt as if a sumo wrestler was pushing with every muscle he had in his body against the back of the teenager's skull, attempting to free himself. Unfortunately for whoever it was, there was no exit to Frank's skull and unfortunately for Frank, said wrestler was not giving up.

He sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure of the migraine to which he had awoken. Frank had always had an issue with migraines, and the doctors said it most likely had to do with his mental disability, which honestly made no sense whatsoever to Frank. Whatever the reason was, he didn't care. He loved it. He craved that dull pounding which most people find painful. He longed for the sharp, stabbing headaches that drive themselves until people's brains, like a rusty nail being drilled into rotting wood. 

He knew Gerard found it disturbing to say the least that Frank enjoyed such torture, but he didn't care what the taller boy thought of him. All Frank cared about was how much pain he was in and how he could increase it. Pain was what Frank lived for, but people often speculated that pain was also would would cause his death.

"One day," they always said, "that boy will cause himself a pain overdose and we will be rid of him finally."

Frank didn't care if that's what they thought. In fact, he didn't care if it was actually true. If he was to die from pain, at least he would be dying by something he loved. Better to die in pleasure than to die in misery. In Frank's case, painlessness would be misery and pain would be pleasure. It was exactly like Doctor Wentz would always say: "The best of us find happiness in misery." It was the kindest and truest thing anyone had ever said to Frank in EINSTEIN. Most people tried to analyze the Patients and treat them like they were science experiments, which in some sense, they kind of were. But Frank didn't like being treated as if he was some alien species to be scrutinized and identified, subject to every test known to man and characterized by uncontrollable variables in his life. It wasn't even a hate that he loved. It was one of those hates that he wished he could just suppress but realized quickly that was woven into his very being to hate it. That's why he loved how Doctor Wentz understood Frank's predicament and tried to help.

Frank missed Doctor Wentz. He was always kind to Frank and, even though Frank loved when people would hurt him, he liked the strange man with the short height and big ego. He liked how clever the man was and how he would always have something to say about everything. It was a shame that he was transferred to a different section of EINSTEIN. He was assigned to a new Patient named Patrick according to Stephan.

Stephan was the unfortunate replacement for Doctor Wentz. He had previously worked at a hospital not far from EINSTEIN, but apparently he was transferred due to his lack of empathy for sick patients. The Patients at the EINSTEIN Home were deemed not in need or worthy of any empathy. They were in need of examination, and Stephan was a smart man. He knew quite a bit about the brain and incorrect mental developments, he just didn't care if the Patient lived or died.

Frank had taken an immediate distaste towards Stephan when he first joined EINSTEIN, but that only built up his excitement for the torturous activities he knew would be imposed upon him.

-

Gerard soon caught on to the fact that he and Frank would not be allowed out of their cell save once a week for their scheduled exercise. He didn't know how Frank had managed to not have an absolute conniption about it, but he was ready to throw Asshole Bert against a wall and beat the shit out of him. He would often request to be allowed to at least take a walk down the hallway, but Bert would always decline rudely and laugh at Gerard's feeble attempts to strangle him. There was nothing worse for Gerard than to be cooped up in a tiny room with someone he hated. Frank, of course, showed no signs of displeasure with the situation. Perhaps he was used to it, perhaps he truly didn't care, but the fact that he didn't seem bothered really irked Gerard.

Frank never really seemed to care about anything. It didn't matter what anyone did or threatened to do, he would usually just laugh and make a snarky comment. Sometimes Bert would throw an insult at Frank that would be offensive to most people, but Frank would just shrug and mumble something to a made-up character he has called Nathan. He never really seemed too bothered by anything anyone said, and Gerard was both freaked out by that and jealous.

He was disturbed by it because how could someone be so careless about such awful insults? They didn't just say things about Frank being ugly, or gay, or fat, but they also said things about how he was insane and that no one could ever love him. They told him he was a result of a failed science experiment and that people like him belonged in an insane asylum. EINSTEIN has never been an insane asylum. It was an institute of examination for the treatably insane, and a safe haven for the gone ones. Frank was definitely a gone, but why didn't he care that they said those things? Gerard knew he had feelings, but he never expressed them. He just laughed it off.

-

It was a weird day that day. Bert was being nice to the two Patients; he was actually complimenting Frank, and they were being allowed out of their cells. Gerard couldn't have been more relieved. As soon as Bert uttered the words, "We're letting you out today," Gerard knew that that was going to be a special day. Frank didn't seem all too phased by the change in monotonousness, but that was no surprise to Gerard. Frank just continued to giggle insanely at some joke that he neglected to repeat aloud. Gerard didn't complain, though. If his uncontrollable laughter meant he didn't have to hear nonsensical rambles from the shorter boy, he was more than happy.

Gerard shot a strange but thankful look at Bert. Never did he think the day would come when he would thank the asshole, but his madness has reached an unsustainable level due to their isolation.

-

"Why were we freed?" Gerard asked Bert as they exited the cell.

Bert laughed as if Gerard had made an obvious mistake-which he had. "Freed? What do you mean freed? You're not being released of your confinement! It's Evaluation Day."

Gerard had never heard of Evaluation Day. He had never really thought of being evaluated, but he guessed his report wouldn't be looking so good. After all, his temper kept him on a tight leash and there wasn't much he could do to control it. It was his master instead of the other way around.

"What be Evaluation Day?" Frank asked.

Bert snorted, obviously somewhat amused by the kid, "It's a day where we evaluate you. Now, get your retarded asses into that room over there," Bert pointed to a small room that looked like an office. "Doctor Charr will be with you soon...and please no sex on the desk."

Gerard rolled his eyes at the last comment, but he said nothing. What Bert believed was his own business and he was too tired to argue with the asshole.

Gerard and Frank silently moved in the direction of the room Bert pointed out. Neither one knew what to expect from this evaluation doctor, but both were slightly afraid of what they'd find out.

Upon entering the office, they realized that it was quite terrifying. No one was in the room, of course, but Gerard had the distinct feeling of being watched. It was as if his every moved was being videoed and broadcasted on every TV in Nevada. Sure, he knew they had security cameras, but this wasn't that type of feeling. This is the feeling you get when you do something stupid and realize that everyone saw it.

Frank apparently had no problems in this place. He giggled childishly and jumped on the leather couch that was placed on the other side of an important-looking desk. "Come be sitting with me, Gee!" Frank laughed. Gerard clenched his fist and stiffly sat down on the couch, which was much more comfortable than he expected it to be.

Just then, a woman entered the room. An air of sophistication emanated from her as she strode into the office. She appeared to be more of a lawyer than a doctor. She was clad in a white, collared button down, which was accommodated by a black blazer, and a black pencil skirt. Shiny, black high heels clicked on the wooden floor as she walked.

"Hello," the woman greeted, "I am Doctor Charr and I will be doing your evaluations." She made her way to a chair that conveniently sat across from the two boys. Sitting down, she shuffled through piles of paperwork, organizing files as she went through them. Charr didn't say a word as she worked, sorting through files for almost ten minutes. After a long period of silence, she looked up, "So, Gerard, Frank, how have you been here at EINSTEIN?"


	5. Chapter 5

Are we insane because we're awesome, or awesome because we're insane?  
~ Unknown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Gerard, Frank, how have you been here at EINSTEIN? I expect you have been...comfortable."

Gerard couldn't believe what he was hearing. What, was he supposed to give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and tell her that it was great? Was he supposed to say that he was loving it here? Would that get him out faster? Was there a way to get out faster? He guessed that, since it was an evaluation, they would probably want the truth. As much as he knew the truth would probably hurt his case later, he wasn't all too keen on lying in an evaluation. He may be in a mental asylum, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew that there were ways to detect if someone wasn't being truthful.

"You want me to be honest?" Gerard said, an amused smile spreading across his features. It wasn't that the situation was funny, nor did he expect it would be appropriate to show his amusement, but he couldn't help letting her know how laughable that particular question was. It was almost as of she was saying 'How has your stay here been? I hope you enjoyed being verbally abused and neglected by the ones who are supposed to be taking care of you. Oh, and did you like the flare we added by forcing you to live with a psychopath who drinks his own blood for entertainment?' Truly, it was a pathetic question to ask during an evaluation.

The woman simply focused her eyes on him, saying nothing but appearing honestly interested in his words. He sighed, realizing she actually wanted to hear his answer, "The truth is that I hate it here. The people are cruel, the food sucks, the exercise is very little, they almost never let us out of our cells, not to mention they made me room with a kid that is most definitely Shakespear's long-lost retarded son! Am I supposed to be 'enjoying my stay at the beautiful gardens of EINSTEIN'?"

Doctor Charr pursed her lips, a thoughtful expression painted across her face, "Well, at least I know you are honest. Frank, what about you? What do you think of EINSTEIN?"

Frank seemed to break out of a daze when his name was mentioned. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, "I be thinking that this be a waste of thee oh-so-precious time. Thou art kindly to be minding me's healthiness. But Nathan be gone right now. I do not be knowing what you be wanting with I. Nathan be expert with these things but he be gone."

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What the hell was Frank talking about? He was always baffled by Frank's randomness, but this had reached a whole new level. He was talking with someone who had the potential to let him out of this hellhole! Gerard was honest with his answer, and Frank could be too. Frank showed no signs of hating it here. Frank actually seemed to enjoy it, or at least he was indifferent. Perhaps voicing these thoughts would release Frank faster. If the boy had been honest, maybe he could've been let out sooner.

Doctor Charr didn't seem phased by Frank's answer. Maybe she knew what was wrong with him--his medical condition--or maybe she was just used to dealing with people like Frank. Either way, Gerard was slightly impressed by her casual response to his crazy words.

"Tell me more about Nathan," Doctor Charr ordered Frank. This made Gerard listen intently. He had always wondered who--or what--this Nathan was that Frank spoke about so often. Was he someone Frank knew? Was he someone who cared for Frank? A partner, perhaps? No, Frank was too weird to have a boyfriend.

Frank just shrugged his shoulders, "Nathan be Nathan. Nathan no likes to be telling who Nathan be. I should not say who be Nathan."

Doctor Charr just nodded, not pushing the topic any further. "Frank, do you know why you're here?"

"I be here for ex-am-in-a-tion," Frank stated as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

"Yes, that is true. But do you know why you're here at EINSTEIN?"

Frank laughed giddily, as if Charr's question was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, "I be crazy, that's why."

She ignored the statement, "Do you know what your disability is?"

He appeared confused for a moment, pausing to think before he spoke again, "I don't be caring."

That's all he said. No matter how much Doctor Charr tried to push him to say more, Frank kept his mouth firmly sealed. "Listen, Frank, I could find a way to let you out of here but you have to give me a reason. You have to show me that you want to be released and that you're doing better. So tell me; do you know why you're here?" Again, Frank was silent. It was almost as if he was playing keep-away with her, as if he knew the answer but he just didn't want to tell her. 

Finally, after pushing and prodding for about ten minutes, Doctor Charr stood up, "I've come to the conclusion that the two of you are entirely unprepared for this and you will stay here for another three months before I decide whether or not we should proceed with further evaluation."

"That isn't fair! You can't chain us here for three fucking months," Gerard exclaimed, raising his voice at the thought of being stuck with Frank for three whole months. Gerard had been rooming with him for less than a month and already he was ready to tear his eyes out of their sockets. How was he supposed to survive three months of this?

"Mr. Way, we have been given authority over you by the government since you are legally considered unable to attain proper care by yourself. Since this permission was authorized by your parents, who normally would decide when you are released based on how well they can care for you, EINSTEIN has full rights to hold you here as long as we deem necessary," Charr explained. Gerard already knew all of this, but he couldn't handle the thought of remaining with Frank for three months before they even consider reevaluation.

"At least let me get a new roommate," Gerard begged.

"That is completely up to the counsellors and Guidance leaders. I have no control over who rooms with whom. However, I can put in a word that Frank's presence has done more harm than good. It seems to me that neither of you is all too happy about your arrangement." Her voice was far too sophisticated and patronizing for Gerard's liking, and he had found that he had grown used to Frank's fucked up speech impediment. Her words irritated him, but he pushed the annoyance back when he realized what she was saying. She might be able to get him a new roommate. The though overjoyed Gerard so much he could've kissed her, but he figured that might've been a bit over the top for a classy business woman.

"Thank you, Doctor Charr. You have no idea how much that would help us."

"Indeed," was all she said. She nodded one last time to Gerard, pausing to give a thoughtful look to Frank, and then left without even a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Quod in vita in morte  
(Translation from Latin: As in life, in death / In life and in death)  
~ Original

~~~~~~~~~~~

Another thing that Gerard hated about EINSTEIN was that they didn't let anyone listen to music. Music was prohibited because 'it provided contact with the outside world which could be confusing or stimulating to Patients'. Of course, Gerard didn't believe that bullshit. Music was an escape. It was a way to keep at least a shred of sanity left in his brain, and they were taking it away.

It didn't even matter what the music was. Gerard tried asking them for some Beethoven or Bach, but still they said it was restricted.

He sighed, listening to the shower run as Frank bathed. Frank was softly singing some made up tune in the shower, not even caring that Gerard could hear him next door.

"Do you think cats go to space? They're assholes on Earth, would they be different any other place? If monkeys went to the moon, should cats go there too?" Frank sang, seemingly putting his whole heart into this song.

Just as Gerard was about to lose his shit listening to Frank's singing, he heard a shriek emanating from the bathroom. Immediately, Gerard went into action. Jumping out of bed, he rushed to the bathroom door, thrusting it open as quickly as possible. They didn't have locks on doors at EINSTEIN, in case some nutjob tries to kill himself, so getting in wasn't difficult. The hardest part of Gerard's intervention was the heartbreaking scene that played out in front of him.

Frank was curled up on the shower floor, water still cascading down, crying and cowering away from something unseen on the opposite side of the room. Gerard felt a pang in his chest at the sight of the shorter boy, suddenly feeling a strange urge to protect him.

"Frank? Frankie, what's wrong?" Frankie....where did that nickname come from?

"He's here, Gerard. Nathan is here, can't you see him?" Frank sobbed, shaking at the sight of the invisible visitor.

"Frank, there's no one here," Gerard assured softly. Frank shook his head, panic filling his usually-excited eyes. Gee had never seen Frank appear so scared, never witnessed Frank even cry. He always seemed so strong and unashamed about everything, and not even the thought of death brought him fear. Now, here he was, hysteric screams of insanity filling the air.

The trembling boy didn't believe Gerard at all, "N-no! He's he-here! He's right th-there!"

Gerard sighed, making his way over to where the shower was. Reaching it, he turned off the water and stepped inside. Frank whimpered slightly when Gerard crouched down beside him.

"Hey, hey, no one is here, okay? Nathan isn't here, whoever he is. He can't get you. I won't let him hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you," Gerard whispered, pulling the soaking boy into his arms. He didn't know why he was comforting him, but in a moment's weakness, he was allowing Frank to cry on his shoulder.

"He's gonna to be k-killing m-me," Frank stuttered, fragile arms grasping at Gerard's clothes.

"No, he won't. I won't let him. Nothing is going to happen to you, shh. It's okay; everything is okay," Gerard comforted. He felt tears spring to his eyes. He didn't understand; why wasn't he finding Frank's crazy ramblings freaky? Why wasn't Frank's weird slang annoying him? Why didn't he see Frank's crying as a sign of weakness? What was happening to him? He knew he still felt the same hatred towards the boy, but he also felt an overwhelming protectiveness over him.

Frank said nothing in response, he merely cried. He didn't know how long they stayed like that for, but it was definitely a while. Gerard's clothes were soaked and his legs were cramping from being in the same position for too long, but he didn't care. He knew he would care once this whole ordeal passed, but right then he was acting on impulse.

When Frank's eyes were dry and it was clear he couldn't have cried any more if he tried, Gerard slipped his arms around his body and lifted him up. He began to carry him out of the bathroom, only stopping to grab a towel so he could cover Frank's naked form. Once they had exited the bathroom, Gerard gently lay Frank on the bed, reaching behind him to wrap the towel around his waist to preserve a shred of dignity.

He felt bad for Frank; the crazy boy who no one had helped. He was sure someone could've helped him at one point, but now there was no hope for Frank. He had no one to mend his broken pieces, no one to make sure he didn't harm himself, no one to teach him that what he saw wasn't there, and absolutely no one who would care if he died. Frank had no one. Yes, Gerard found him annoying and unbelievably crazy, but he started to see that maybe he didn't hate him so much as he thought he had. He wouldn't go so far as to say he liked him, but he didn't hate him. Frank had been through a lot of shit, and it was obvious that what he needed was someone on his side.

Maybe, Gerard thought, if the two of us work together and I help him, we could get out of this place sooner.

It sounded good in his head; faking the evaluation and making it seem like they were okay. He didn't know if he could get Frank to lie, but if Frank thought that Gerard was on his side, maybe he could. Maybe he could get Frank to lie for him and the two of them could just get out of EINSTEIN. If he was honest, which he usually was, Gerard wanted nothing more than to get out of this shithole. He didn't care if he got out and Frank didn't, just as long as he himself got out. Sure, he sounded selfish, but he didn't feel even the slightest remorse for it. Yes, he hated seeing Frank vulnerable and weak; yes, he carried Frank's nude, shaking form and modestly covered him once he was safely tucked into bed, but that didn't mean he cared about the boy. He just decided that he didn't like the thought of insanity tearing someone apart to the point where their madness was torturing them. After hearing a few of the Patients speak of IDS, or Insanity-Driven Suicide, Gerard made up his mind that he wouldn't let Frank drift that far. However, he knew that if Frank's death would purchase a sure ticket to freedom, he wouldn't think twice. It honestly unnerved him to know how quickly he would give another man's life to improve his own.

He didn't have much time to reflect upon his thoughts before Asshole Bert showed up at the door. "Did the fag finally get laid?" He asked, motioning to Frank's body which appeared naked as his lower half was covered by the sheets and only his shirtless figure poked out from underneath. As Frank was asleep and couldn't respond even if he wanted to, Gerard sent a nasty glare at the nurse.

"No, he and I will never fuck, and I'll give you exactly ten seconds to explain why you're here before I ring security," Gerard warned. He was aware that, even if he tried to contact security, they'd ignore him. They always ignored the gone ones.

Bert didn't seem at all threatened by Gerard's tough-guy act, "I just came in to inform you that you are permitted and encouraged to visit the art gallery, as it is open to the Patients this week."

Gerard was slightly shocked both by the revelation that EINSTEIN had an art gallery and by how well-spoken Bert sounded. "Wow, did Mommy finally give you English lessons or did Administration give you a default speech to make in every room?" Gerard asked. He was genuinely curious; it wasn't often Bert delivered good news with proper sentence formation.

Bert simply shrugged, "I don't have all day to answer your smart-ass questions. Just go to the gallery and look at the shit that was clearly made with washable fingerpaint." That's all Bert said before he walked away, leaving Gerard alone with the sleeping Frank.

Well, I have nothing better to do and Frank is asleep so I can't just push him around, should I go?

The idea sounded ridiculous. Gerard had serious anger issues and was considered highly dangerous, and yet here he was contemplating attending an art-appreciation event merely because he was bored. He almost immediately shot the thought down, deciding that it was too stupid to go to a cheesy display of shit on a canvas.

However, he couldn't help but feel drawn to it, almost as if a magnetic force was pulling him in against his will. He tried to expel all thoughts of this event from his brain, but to no avail. Almost mechanically, he moved towards the door. And he opened it. And he stepped outside.

What the hell are you doing? Go back into your cell. It's just a lame art gallery thing. Ignore it.

But he couldn't ignore it. Something about it was drawing him in, and he had no say in whether he was going or not. His brain had decided that he would attend and that was it. He could not decline the inner wishes of his body.

Walking down the hall, he noticed that the lights were dimmer than they normally were. Perhaps it was due to stricter lights-out rules after Evaluation Day. Whatever the reason was, it made the hallway more eerie and bleak, a bit like a prison.

When he arrived at the gallery, he was surprised to find that most of the Patients had come. This was strange as almost all of the Patients hated each other and could barely stand to be in the same room together. But here they were, chatting quietly like old friends and pointing at different art pieces that struck their fancy.

Gerard spotted someone vaguely familiar, someone he had known at his previous asylum. His name was Ray. Ray was a bit psycho, but so was everyone in that room. Ray had something that the Brains called the Capgras Delusion. It was a delusion where the Patient believed that all of his friends and loved ones had been replaced by an identical imposter. It had gotten so bad for Ray that he ended up killing his mother, thinking that whoever was 'playing her part' was torturing his real mother. Normally, he would've been sent to prison but due to his mental condition, the judge decided it was better for him at EINSTEIN.

"Ah, Gerard, or should I say Imposter?" Ray said, approaching Gerard.

"Ray, I know you think I'm not Gerard, but I can promise you that I am," Gee said, trying to inch himself out of a conversation with the freak.

"Liar! Those are lies; you are lying."

Gerard sighed, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he would never convince Ray otherwise. The best thing for him to do would be to just walk away, which is what he did.   
He inched away from his old friend and began to look at the artwork.

He had to admit, he was slightly impressed by the talents of whoever these artists were. The way everything flowed together was flawless, and the contours seemed to blend perfectly. Different stroke patterns gave the scenes texture and depth. Gerard didn't know why, but for some reason, his palms began to sweat at the sight of the beautiful paintings.

He ignored it, moving on to another display. This one was called Johnny's Revenge, and the gore in the painting was much more intense than any of the others. It showed a scene from a carnival, with a Ferris wheel, a roller coaster, and a few other rides. In the center of the park was a man dressed in black, a psychopathic grin upon his lips, and a bloody knife in his hands. Strewn around him were the corpses of dead children, all with a stab wound in their chests and all of them missing at least one limb. Many of them had been completely eviscerated, their dismantled bodies scattered carelessly around the man. Gerard shivered at the sight, but he could not tear his eyes from the picture. Suddenly, intense dizziness erupted in his head, the world spinning around him and all of the paintings swirling together in a blur. Confusion as to where he was clouded his mind. The only clear thing in his eyesight was the man in the painting, except this time he was in the room staring at Gerard. The man's smile grew larger, displaying two rows of serrated teeth. The man began to laugh, but it didn't sound like just one voice. It seemed to be the laughter of young children--perhaps it was from the kids he brutally murdered--but it was creepy nonetheless. The man stepped forward to make his way towards Gerard, knife in hand and grin expanding. Gerard tried to run, but it was as if he was glued in place with nowhere to go.

Just as the man approached Gerard, weapon raised high and ready to plunge it into the teenager's chest, everything went black. The last thing Gerard heard was the hysterical laughter of the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by Johnny’s Revenge by Crown The Empire.


End file.
